


dreaming of me

by icemachine



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, setting? timeline? what are those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemachine/pseuds/icemachine
Summary: "You know," he says, running his fingers solemnly over the fresh, metallic TARDIS walls, "you act just like him."





	dreaming of me

**Author's Note:**

> what up gays i need to write more fic

"You know," he says, running his fingers solemnly over the fresh, metallic TARDIS walls, "you act just like him."

 

She dresses like him—the soft, blue coat resembling the cricket gear; the short blonde hair resembling his.  _ His--- _ the Doctor was his, in perhaps another world, another time. In front of him stands someone new. Still kind, still saturating him with kindness & the Doctor’s signature sacred love. It feels like jumping off of a boat sailing through space, it feels like the Doctor’s hand gentle on the curve of his back after—after—

 

“I am him,” she says. “I still am, you know. Sure, I’ve got a fresh face. Sure, to you I might look different. But my past is still my past.”

 

“How long has it been, Doctor?”

 

Her lips tighten, eyes falling like stars to the ground. “Well, um, when I met you I was in my fifth incarnation. I’m in my thirteenth one, now.”

 

“I see,” Turlough replies, his voice breaking—faltering—shattering. “Tell me, Doctor. What have you seen?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Since then. Have you seen anything particularly interesting?”

 

The Doctor lights up, glistens, the excitement on her face just a little bit too reminiscent of something he once loved. “Oh, Turlough,  _ so  _ many things. I can’t believe---I can’t really think of anything specific.”

 

“We have time,” he says; they have time, they have so much  _ time.  _ Why did the Doctor visit him? Why does the Doctor think about him, still, when she has new friends and new loves and new worlds? What is so exceptional about Turlough, what makes him stick in her mind?

 

Why does he feel nauseous? Why does he feel earthly?

 

There isn’t enough time for questions.

 

“Okay---well,” the Doctor says, placing her hands on his shoulders enthusiastically, “there was this colony I went to, with Bill---excellent girl, you’d love her---and it had robots that communicated only through emojis. Oh, and I saw a girl killed by shadows. Shadows! Uh, anyway, that’s not very exciting, though, but it is interesting. Hm… oh, robot Santas. That was quite a wild ride. I met Shakespeare.”

 

“Doctor,” Turlough sighs, “I have no idea what half of those things mean.”

 

“Oh, right… well, like you said, we have time, and my friends are… away... right now, really sad, but um… we have time. I can explain everything.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

The Doctor pulls him down, sitting next to her on the floor of the TARDIS. She’s sitting cross-legged. It’s endearing. It’s so  _ endearing. _

 

“One question,” he says.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Was Shakespeare as awful as I always thought he was?”

 

“He was under the spell of a few witches, but we did flirt a bit. I looked like a man, then, too, which I think you’d find interesting---no, he wasn’t as bad as you thought. Honestly, I should go back for a visit.”

 

“Yes, I think that requires a bit of explanation.” Turlough smiles, and the Doctor smiles, their connection pulsing again. “Tell me everything.”


End file.
